War. A curse. An ugly face, rearing
his head and smirking. He knows he will win.
War. He has an icy heart. Or rather, he is heartless,
ruthlessly invading an otherwise peaceful place.
He wants ours.
War. He takes all life out of the brave; the fear
out of the criminals.
He strips away all humanity from
the hearts and minds of any sane man
or woman.
He wants to turn our people into his creatures.
War. His cruel mind thinks of ways to play with
the people, teasing them and taunting them like a
school bully who gets worse and worse in his
War. When he is finally done terrorizing and moves on,
he leaves behind a shadow of despair; broken promises,
shattered hope.
War. Smiling heartlessly, he extends one filthy, distorted
hand toward us.
Reluctant, but having no choice, we grasp his hand
in ours.